


Fenrir

by Rozebud



Series: It Happened Like This [5]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Fenrir - Freeform, Final Fantasy 7 compilation - Freeform, Final Fantasy VII - Freeform, Gold Saucer, Motorbike racing, Seventh Heaven - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozebud/pseuds/Rozebud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having some fun. Trying to tie it in with Fenrir's history. Hope you enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Deal

 

 

 

**Part 1**

 

_**THE DEAL** _

 

 

The roller door of the garage of Seventh Heaven was up, letting in the cool breeze, and what was left of the afternoon light. The garage was Cloud's unofficial 'room' and over the past year he had accumulated parts, tools, bike magazines and anything else he deemed important. There was probably a lot of unnecessary junk in there as well, if he listened to Tifa, but-- they were his. There was even room for an old couch that he and Tifa picked up at a used saleyard. If he had to spend time in there than he would at least have somewhere comfy to sit, but that was Tifa's idea, not his. And he expected it was for her comfort and not especially for his as he was only ever working when in the garage, while she would flop on the soft cushions, supplied by her, and talk to him about her day or anything she wanted and needed to share with him. Since its presence in the garage, everyone felt comfortable visiting him. Denzel sprawled out, reading motor magazines and going over mechanic manuals. Even Marlene sneaked in at times under the guise of checking her plant that she had left under the narrow window to 'decorate' and to rid the garage of that oily stink, so she said. Oil didn't have to be a bad smell, he told her, anyway, she had to water the plant, Cloud instructed, if she wanted it to live. After reassuring herself the plant was healthy, she would stand above him, watching and asking questions about why he did that with that tool, and why did he use that particular wrench and not this bigger one and so on. They all wanted to be a part of Cloud's room, which he didn't mind as long as they didn't expect him to talk that much when they visited, and gave him some space. At the end of the day it made him feel wanted and he couldn't complain about that.

Cloud was under Fenrir on a wheel tray, attempting to screw in a new and difficult part he had recently picked up. He wanted to make the most of the natural light before he had to put on the fluros. Denzel had been sitting, chatting by his feet while Cloud was cursing the clamp that would not go on, only half listening to the boy's enthusiastic motorbike talk.

"…so when can I ride it?"

Cloud reached for a smaller tool and frowned as he examined the head before tossing it away and grabbing the next size. "When can you ride it?" he repeated, not really paying attention to his earnest request.

"Yeah. When?"

"When you're older."

"Like how old?"

Cloud lifted a concerned brow, considering his question. Denzel was only fourteen. Maybe old enough for a small bike, but Fenrir… too young. "When you're strong enough to hold its weight. A few years, but…" he twisted the clamp on the bronzed engine segment that would not attach no matter how much he forced it.

"But?" Denzel's voice went low, doubtful.

Dropping the tool back in the metal tray, clattering them aside, Cloud stopped working and crooked his neck to see Denzel's feet. "Fenrir isn't a _normal_ bike. No-one else has ever ridden it. Safely."

"Huh?"

"Maybe he's not like that anymore but still… I'd be worried." Cloud wheeled himself from under Fenrir and sat up to look at Denzel with a steady gaze.

 Denzel scrutinized him under his lanky fringe with a pout. "How come you can ride him than?"

"That's a good question and I'm still not sure. I'll try to explain..."

 

~~7~~

 

 

At the Main Station of The Gold Saucer, Cloud waited at the workers entry for the service elevators. He kept his distance from personal, maintenance workers, and other couriers, all waiting to get their business over and done with, much like him. On this particular day he was ready to give up his idea of travelling around the Planet gathering provisions for Seventh Heaven. The thought of telling Tifa that and seeing her disappointment kept him from any grumbling, but still, he was feeling the drain of the extended travel and having to rely on strangers. He could try to endure just one more journey… couldn't he? He decided he just needed his own transport. That would solve a lot of problems and... rage. From Costa del Sol to the Gold Saucer, he had spent the last couple of hours trapped in a cramped truck that smelt like wet chocobo and with a man that wanted to talk about every journey he had ever been on, and expected Cloud to do the same. It wasn't going to happen. The thought of travelling back home with the same man caused Cloud to wince. There had to be another way.

Sal Dumaris, a supplier at Costa del Sol who on occasion gave him the unusual fruits, or what Tifa called exotic, persuaded him to deliver an important package to an associate of his at the Gold Saucer. Cloud had been reluctant, mainly because of the transport issue, and on top of that, he wasn't sure he wanted to be known as a delivery boy. But, Sal was adamant it be him. He trusted Cloud. Cloud wasn't sure why he looked so trustworthy, what with a massive sword at his back. The sword he still carried around. Perhaps it was because of the sword that Sal asked him. Ignoring Cloud's hesitation, Sal had pushed gil into his hand and a permit letter he would need to get a Workers Pass to the Gold Saucer. He added a parting comment about the job, "Besides, my friend will help you get hooked up with an answer to your problems."

More out of curiosity than anything, Cloud wanted to meet this man who could help him with his 'problems'.

With the oddly shaped brown wrapped parcel, he entered the open lift. It was a long boring ride up to Chocobo Square. The level had changed since he'd been there. For a start he could barely move for the crushing crowds. He didn't remember it being this busy. The near end of the Planet sure hadn't deterred people flocking to the amusement park. Maybe it had even increased business. Adding to the noise of the overabundant crowds was an incessant drone of engines and vociferous cheers. He could hardly hear anything else above it all.

Away from the shoving throng, he spied the Workers door. After sliding in his pass card the door opened. He walked into a buzzing hub of workers, maintenance vehicles, and some working and some apparently not, machinery. He walked past workshops and the noise beyond dulled to a muted roar. A sign reading **‘Speed Machines'** was nailed to a wall. Cloud walked through the open workshop, past boxes and crates. The inside was larger than he first realized. It was not just a mechanics shop but what seemed to be a storage area for -- motorcycles. So that explained the noise he had been hearing.

"You want something?"

It took Cloud a moment to register that the voice came from a man lying under a motorbike. "Axel?" He laid the package on a table, strewn with tools and other metal paraphernalia. "I've got a delivery from Sal."

Axel rose to his feet slowly, wiping his dirty hands on his red, greased smeared overalls.

Cloud walked around the shop while Axel ripped the paper off the parcel like an excited child. Running his hand over a silver fender, Cloud admired the gleaming metal chassis, polished to perfection. Good looking bikes were scattered around the shop, some in the midst of being dismantled or perhaps refitted. At the back of the shop, a thick studded wheel caught his attention. His eyes travelled along the elongated black frame to the complicated fuselage and on, to the front girth that seemed to go on and on. The size of the bike was bigger than any he had ever seen. He felt breathless at the find.

Behind him, Axel cried, "What the jiminy is this supposed to be?" He held up and examined a rusty bronze curved Leviathan horn, and grumbled under his breath, "...that man, sending me his junk." He took a note tied on the mouthpiece and threw the horn down on the table, clattering objects to the floor. Reading the note, he chuckled under his breath and than threw it down without a care. He sauntered over to Cloud, sweeping his hand over a crimson flame on a cruiser as he went. "You like bikes?"

Cloud glided his hand over the leather seat and collected a layer of dust. The black metal was grubby in the same manner, as if it had never been cleaned. "Who doesn't?"

Axel nodded while staring the bike over. "It's a fine machine." He smoothed his hand over the front lip and appeared embarrassed by the state of the bike. "It doesn't get much attention is all."

"There are bike races here now?"

"Yeah. They've been a big hit since opening. It's where the gil is. The boss had been working for years on the track." Axel gave him a confused stare as if asking where Cloud had been for the last year. "Seems everyone comes here now."

The last time Cloud was at the Gold Saucer he couldn't remember any mention about race tracks, only the chocobos, but at the time he had too many other things to worry about.

Axel scratched his black stringy hair, about to walk away.

"How much for this bike?"

Axel turned with a squint in his eye and mouth curving into an enigmatic smirk. "Ah, you see, this one's special."

Cloud's curiosity was piqued. If something was so special why was it in such bad condition? He studied the paired front wheels under the black metal, and the neglected brushed gold engine. "It's not looking to special right now."

Axel rubbed the dusty front cover. "Maybe, but there aren't many models like this. It belonged to a hot shot in Wutai. Some master of sword fighting, probably some ninja. I don't touch the engine." He pushed past Cloud and roughly shifted him from the side of the bike. "Get a load of this." Pressing some unseen button, compartments on either side of the bike sprang open. "Apparently, he had it made so he could ship weapons illegally. Cool, huh?"

Cloud put his hand in the dust free opening, thinking it was very cool. An amazing design feat.

Axel watched him. "I'm not sure it would fit that big sword though."

He might be right... but something in his gut nudged him to take it further. He wanted it, no, he needed that bike. "How much is it?" Not that he could probably afford it, but wasn't it worth knowing?

"It's not really for sale."

Cloud frowned darkly, not liking that answer at all. "What do you mean, 'not really'?"

"It's... it does need some repairs." Axel closed an eye and squinted at Cloud, assessing how serious he was. "The dual throttle doesn't work and it needs a tune up. I've got others you can look at."

Shifting his sword to a more comfortable position, Cloud sat on the bike. He leaned into the arch and adjusted his girth to the bike's angle, and swiveling the front wheel, he admired the hip-based turning. There was a bulk to the vehicle, a solid weight under his body that felt secure and significant. He held the handles, neatly hidden under the overarching fuel tank. It couldn't hurt to ask, he might never get another chance. "How about a ride?"

Axel eyed him for moments. "You reckon you could ride it?"

"Oh, yeah." Cloud held his grin at the thought of it.

Stroking his chin, Axel glanced between the bike and Cloud. "Alright, I'll tell you what I'll do. If you win the Champion Race today you can take the bike, I'll take the winnings."

Cloud sat up straight, considering the offer with a thoughtful furrow on his pale brow. "But you say the bike needs repairs? Will it run?"

"Yeah, it goes. It's fast. It's just… the engine is temperamental. It needs a special touch." Axel raised his finger and waved it in the air. "But, there's a catch."

"Okay, let's hear it." There had to be something.

"You have to pay me to ride in the race."

Now Cloud was stroking his chin. The man was a shrewd business man after all. Too shrewd. He could pay and get nothing but a ride on a bike that might not even go. "So, I'm paying for a ride?"

"Yeah, well, at worst. At best you get a bike." Axel watched Cloud's deepening incredulous stare and spread his hands out wide. "Hey, I'm trying to run a business here and it could cost me if you smash it up."

Cloud didn't have any significant gil on him. He wondered if he could promise him the materia he had at home, but that wasn't all of his to dispose of. Not that anyone would notice its absence, except Yuffie who always counted each one and sorted them into types every time she visited. He let out a slow involuntary sigh.

"You don't have any gil, do you?" He shook his head. "What do you do than? What's your trade?"

"I part own a bar and restaurant."

"You do?" His dark eyes lit up. "A good one?"

"The best in Edge." Cloud, feeling proud, stretched back and rummaged in his pocket for one of the cards they had printed up. The card was still good after being in his pocket, probably for days. He handed it to him.

"Edge..." Axel stared at the Seventh Heaven logo that had Tifa and Clouds' name printed on it. Barrett had sternly forbidden them from putting his name on the card, exclaiming, _It's not my thing, it's you guys._

Axel asked, "That's the new Midgar, right?"

"Just outside Midgar."

Axel flicked the card between his fingers, getting excited. "I like to get out of this place once in a while and I like whiskey. How ‘bout you give me some discounts, something like that?"

That didn't seem too much. Just discounts... just food and drink right?

"I know!" Axel yelped. "A life-time free pass to your restaurant. The bikes worth it, eh?"

Just for letting him ride the bike? _Just a ride? Could the deal get any shoddier?_ Cloud looked down at the powerful looking machine between his legs. How much did he want to ride it?  But with a chance of winning the bike… what would Tifa say? He decided he wouldn't mention the bike at all, not yet. If he managed to win the bike then it would be more than worth it. He would even serve the man himself. Cloud pulled out his phone. "Okay." There was no way he was going to guarantee it without asking Tifa first. He wouldn't dare. After speaking with Tifa, he got permission, easily. Why wasn't she asking him what he was up to? It irked him in a warped kind of way. Didn't she want to know? But then again, Tifa was smart, she was probably thinking, it was best not to know.

"Your girlfriend is your boss?" Axel continued smirking at him.

Cloud tinged at the blunt remark. "Kinda..." There was no way he would deny he didn't wish that were so, and he knew there wasn't any other girl for him. If and when Axel met Tifa than it was best to make sure he was relaying the truth. Making it official was something else entirely.

"We all good than?"

"Yeah, I'll just write you a receipt."

"Good, the race'll be starting soon." Axel looked him over as Cloud climbed off the bike. "You want gear?"

"Gear?" Cloud looked down at his customary black pants and sleeveless sweater. Only one pauldron, a habitual accessory and maybe due to superstition. He admitted he must have looked bare.

Axel nodded towards a rack. Helmets, bulky armour and other body protectors were in a disgusting blend of bright colors, and all looking haggard.

"I'll pass." Cloud thought he really should be asking why he needed body protection, but for some reason he felt he didn't want to know right than.

"Suit yourself. At least you got that nice big weapon."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Just you keep it on you. Anywho, it's all about the race, don't get too hung up on the other stuff."

"The other stuf--"

"And this, bas--baby, goes fast. It's a regular speed demon." He cackled loud and long.

 

~~ 7 ~~

 

Axel loaded up the enormous motorbike onto his trailer with Cloud helping alongside, and he drove it to the pre-race deck elevator. They unloaded the bike and Cloud rolled it onto the platform. Axel left him instructions and he went off, saying he had to register Cloud's name and fill out a bunch of annoying forms. Cloud was left with the bike plus a dozen other race entrants and their machines all headed up to the staging area. He sat, gripping the bike's handles, hoping the machine did not need as many repairs as Axel said. He glanced at the other bikes, trying not to appear too interested. They were a range of various types, half of them appeared to be so padded with booster accessories he couldn't tell what sort of bikes they were. The riders resembled their vehicles. Covered in hardened leather, spikes, shiny pieces of plate, and every type of fortification a die-hard racer could probably get. On top of that there was a prolific splattering of weapons amongst the riders. What sort of race was this?

"Cloud?" a female voice squeaked right near his ear.

He resisted turning, already inhaling the sickingly sweet smell of flowered perfume to see the person he expected or was that dreaded. In her pink girly dress and coiffured honey blonde hair, she stared intensely, her eyes like saucers. She hadn't changed at all. "Hey. Ester."

"Cloud! It's really you." She clapped her pink nailed hands with excitement and rocked on the balls of her feet, her voice was trill and painful. "You didn't get thrown in prison again, did you?"

"Nah." He gave her a brief glance. It was better to not look directly at her; she had a way of drilling you with her needy eyes. "I'm working."

Her eyes glazed over with pity and she nodded. "This is where the gil is."

"No more chocobos?"

"Chocobos out of date, out of season." Her cheeks bulged with delight and her fists pumped near her face. "Motorbikes are the future. And it's never been so much fun." She stiffened abruptly. "Hold on, working? You should be working for me." She finally noticed what he was sitting on. "Oh, my Odin!" Gasping, she clutched at her chest with one hand, the other pointed at his bike. "You're riding the Hell Hound!" She started to step away, and her voice suddenly turned breezy. "Oh, well, it was nice knowing you."

He stared down at the bike and cleared dust from the fuel tank, revealing a section of an etched pattern underneath. "What are you talking about?"

She stepped further from the bike as if it might attack her, and with a dramatic gush in her voice, said, "It's cursed. Everyone who rides it is either maimed or killed. That evil Money Pot of a man has found another sucker."

"That's crazy." That would explain why Axel never bothered putting money into fixing it.

Ester shook her blonde curls, sadly. "It's true. It's the speed. Too fast. Axel doesn't care, because he just wants something out of it."

Had he just sold his life away for a lifetime free pass at Seventh Heaven? Tifa would not be happy. "Too fast, eh?"

Ester stared at him with wide-eyed fear. "No one tames the Hell Hound."

So that's what Axel was betting on. Either way it was win win for Axel. He hadn't even test driven it yet. "We'll see than." He exhaled a nervous breath.

Ester nodded towards his sword. "You can ride one handed?"

"Ah…kinda." Not only was he racing to win, was he going to have to defend his life at the same time?

They arrived at the Staging Area, and Ester sang with cheer, "Good luck, Cloud. Hope you live! And if you do, come work for me."

Cloud rolled the monstrous machine off the platform. The Hell Hound. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to think such a beautiful machine was cursed. Maybe _it was_ cursed, cursed like him.

 

 (Continued Part 2 The Race)


	2. The Race

 

 

**Part 2**

 

 

**THE RACE**

 

Along with the other competitors, Cloud was directed onto a marked deck area that began to move up. He watched the ceiling roll away, revealing a blur of glittering color and noise. At the appearance of the contestants, the crowds erupted in deafening waves of cheering. He ogled the spectacle that was the track, momentarily forgetting that he was a part of the show. Stands for the screaming, excited people were situated along the track and all over the place it would seem, making the most of every vantage point. A massive screen flashed important portions of the track, so no action could be missed. On first glance, the track looked like a labyrinth of ramps and upward twisting roadways. Staring studiously, his eyes tried to follow it. He gave up, and pressing his lips together, holding back his grin, he attempted looking focused. Taking a deep concentrated breath, he tuned into the Commentator's voice, introducing the competitors. He looked across at the bunch of racers, at least two dozen of them, and most of them looking tough and seasoned.

\- WUTAI'S REVENGE - the Announcer shouted, ridden by - KYLAN -, looking very Wutai with his black shoulder length hair and slender build. The man and his machine surely had to be one of the favorites. Cloud blatantly stared at the big bike similar to his, fascinated with its sleek black frame and burnished bronze undercarriage. Designed in the same fashion, yet it was well looked after.

\- CRUSHER- Some monster of a bearded man with a horned helmet on a gold and red flamed cruiser. He raised his weapon and roared at the yelling crowds. The man reminded Cloud of Barrett. Beside the red cruiser was - CANON - a lanky, mean-mouthed man with a crimson open helmet, stared back at Cloud, his eyes sizing him and his bike up. "This track's gonna kill you, boy."

Cloud rolled his bike forward, flicking the stand up. "Do I look worried?" He kept his eyes on the track.

Canon growled, "You look weak."

Cloud held his tongue, his rising anger added to his already volatile nervous energy. He would save it for the track.

The Commentator continued, - STRIFE - on the HELL HOUND. Cheering spectators reached a fever level of excitement at the mention of the bike, and not so much the rider. So it really was called that. Axel was a devious devil.

Rolling through the pack, a black racer bike stopped two riders down. Cloud looked over the rider in a jet black suit, full face matching helmet with shinning black visor. – SHADOW - on VELOCITOR. The race really did bring out the strangest people, Cloud thought. Looking down at himself, he had to smile at his bare minimal in protection. He could only hope his bike would get them both through.

The speaker's voice boomed over the escalating commotion of the people. Cloud's own exhilaration pumped through his veins, making his muscles ache to get moving. But he thought it was probably in his best interests to try to pay attention. - SPEED FEST 2000 CHAMPIONSHIP is a TWO LAP RACE with CARDINAL RULES. NO SPELL CASTING, AND INTENTIONAL DEATH of RACERS WILL DISQUALIFY YOU FROM THE RACE - A wave of cheers signaled the people approved of this rule.

 _Intentional death? Did that mean unintentional death was okay?_ Cloud stared ahead, aghast at the insinuation. He warmed his engine along with everyone else. Axel had briefed him on the bike controls, but that was a whole lot different than taking it in his own hands. He breathed steady, reminding himself, _it's just a ride._ The bike hummed under him, so smooth he turned the grip to make sure it was on. It roared in response, ready to go. His eyes fired up and his mouth curved into an adrenalin packed grin.

 - READY - the Starter blared.

"CRUSHAAAAR!" The huge man spun his plated mace over his head in some vain display of power.

The atmosphere was heady with unrestrained ebullience. Cloud could smell the sultry sweat, oily exhausts and the trace of energized fear, so strong he wondered if everyone could smell it.

\- GO! -

A haze of men and machines sped off in an overwhelming storm of metallic vibrations. Cloud, more intent on familiarizing himself with the vehicles handling than placing himself with the front runners, let himself be hemmed in by the glut of riders on the track's start. The riders clumped in a noisy mass on the narrow track. Cloud used the straight to get accustomed to the bike's performance. Its steady balanced maneuvering was excellent and beyond anything he had ever experienced. The bike's power flared effortlessly. Too easily. The massive machine had imposing presence on the track. Too bad the dual throttle was not working. Still, it was a bike well worth owning. But if he was going to win the race he had to get moving. He sprang away from the other riders and they kept their distance. The bike wanted to race, he could feel the rumbling motor increasing in fervency. The Hell Hound was built like a powerful cruiser but he rode it like a racer.

 So far the winding track was a confined roadway of short inclines and brief sporadic tunnels. The enthusiastic spectators, not far from the barriers, stuck their arms through the fencing, dangerously close to the racers. Amid their catcalling, he tuned out the Announcer, blaring over-stimulated commentaries, and concentrated on the road. The sharp dips were sudden and he flew for seconds, keeping the bike upright, preparing for that jolt of concrete under rubber. As the bike hit the solid road and past other riders, Cloud headed away from the slower machines and towards the tail end of the faster bikes. The pack began to spread out, separating those who had the power to back their desire to win from those who lagged behind. He let a racer pass him, knowing he hadn't even given his bike full power yet. He felt oddly content, speeding in a lazy automaton, enjoying the thrumming machine under his body, in his control. He realized how much he would have liked a ride on the wide open road. Now he knew without a doubt. He really did want the bike.

Above the booming engines and hollering of spectators, he heard the Announcer -THEY'RE COMING UP TO THE AIR TRACK -

 _Air track?_ Cloud could see the tail end of bikes in front. Speeding up to catch them, he gave the bike more power and leaned into the curve. Zooming past another rider, he geared up for the straight and within seconds his bike left the road. It flew, powered by propulsion only over what might have been water meters below. Head down, all his muscles clenching, he was intent on willing the bike to the other side. The bike was heavy, but speed took them both over. Landing hard, he slid into a rigid turn, the momentum forcing him up the curled track within touching distance of fans. Deciding he didn't want the majority of the pack right at his back end, he pumped the throttle as much as he thought sane to catch the front runners. His bike squealed along the curve and ahead, anticipating whatever the track had in store for him.

Keeping pace behind a handful of main contenders, Cloud reached the feet of the - SPIRAL VORTEX - A colossal spiraling track he saw on entering the arena. The Spiral Vortex was like its namesake. The track wound up and up at least four times. Was there anything Dio hadn't thought of? The man really was diabolical or utterly crazy. Whatever Cloud thought of the track, the spectators loved it. The repetitive turns needed a careful pace. To relieve the speed on the curves, Cloud geared down and flexed the foot brake. Nothing happened. The bike continued on, not dropping any mileage. _Shit!_ Squeezing the trigger brake dampened the speed, momentarily. But if he were to press it with force the bike would go front over in a tumbling hulk. He kept wide to the railing, focusing on the severe turns at a speed normally too high for corners. Three other riders travelled alongside. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed Crusher and Canon sharing a shady glance. Parallel to Cloud, Canon raced up the center while Crusher, a few meters behind, boxed in the third rider at the barrier. The giant man's zealous bellow was followed by the smashing of metal.

Cloud gave him a swift glimpse over his shoulder. A rider and his bike crashed against the concrete barrier and rolled down the spiral slope. Crusher was still swinging his mighty steel plated club. Cloud looked across at Canon, staring his way with a smarmy grin, informing Cloud he knew exactly what had happened.

Finally reaching the top, Cloud hit the flat road in front of Canon. He watched racers ahead disappear over the lip of the road with a moment of dread. Bracing himself for what he suddenly feared, he leaned into the bike and gripping it with his legs, he demanded more speed from the throttling machine. Lying low on the hot fuel tank, he shot off the track like a bullet splitting the air. Flying fast and down - THE DROP-OFF - to what seemed to be the next leg of the track, he hoped. As he sailed sky high above road and spectators, he realized none of his friends knew where he was. What a shame they couldn't see him shooting through the air.

After what seemed like forever, the bike landed with a hefty thump on a rubbery turf and he was burning down another spiraling track. Shorter, tighter, faster. His bike angled up the dished in sides, as he half flew half rode down the twisting track. He could hear Canon's rumbling cruiser screaming at his rear. At the end of the spiral, Cloud swerved, his studded tires hitting a dirt track. Out of surprise Cloud might have slowed as it was he couldn't and he motored ahead, going full pelt onto this new unfamiliar surface. His bike found good purchase, commanding a path through the rifled dirt in a steady route. It was satisfying to know it rode the supple terrain with precision and balance. Blasting out of the - SAND TRAP - he left a curtain of sand in his wake and drove onto solid surface again and downwards. Riding on the firm road was like riding on air. Untapped power surged under his body waiting to be released.

The dark opening of a tunnel loomed. So this was - HELL'S DESCENT - Bikes slowed temporarily as lights flashed on and riders became more cautious. Luckily, he could see more than most in the unlit tunnel and charged on. Thundering, crackling engines reverberated in the confined space, piercing his eardrums, nearly deafening him. He propelled the bike closer to the end of the front pack that appeared to have dropped a gauge in speed.

A fiery blaze erupted in front of him. A bike flipped, sending the rider crashing into a wall. Cloud swung incisively within seconds of hitting the man. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Canon aim a bulky shot gun at Cloud and his bike. Criss-crossing the tunnel, Cloud charged the accelerator and streaked up and out from the tunnel. Before he knew it, he was under the glaring lights again and on another straight and racing to another ramp. Soaring over the free space, his bike firmly seized between his legs, and right hand still feeding the engine fuel, he reached back for his sword with his left hand. It was a stretch, but he didn't want to land with no acceleration or defense now that he knew how these racers were playing. The giant sword swished through the air as he spun it clear and he clutched it firmly as he thumped onto solid earth.

The Wutai cruiser and the Velocitor were among a handful of racers firing down the first leg of the track where he landed. Canon whizzed up hard behind him. Cloud glanced over his shoulder. He would have preferred the unpredictable rider be in front of him than at his back. Sure enough, the man was holding the converted modified shotgun. A mini explosion lit up the track ahead. A bike and rider flipped skyward, becoming a wall of limbs and metal flying Cloud's way. He ramped over the fallen bike, missing the groaning man by mere inches. Even Canon swerved perilously to avoid the hazard that he created. There was nothing a sword could do if Cloud couldn't face his enemy and there was no chance he was going to turn back to do that.

Travelling through the intermittent tunnels, Cloud leaned into the machine, tense and preparing for anything, presuming Canon was not going to cease his random firing. He watched the dark haired Wutai ahead, look over his shoulder and twisting his torso, he hurled shurikens Cloud's way. Cloud ducked his blond head low and the spinning weapons flew overhead to Canon behind him.

Canon's gun spun out of his hand, hitting the wall, and his shriek echoed in the short tunnel. "You fucker!"

Cloud had a feeling the Wutai's intention was to hit the mad gun man all along. Hearing Canon racing up to him, he powered up for the Air Track. At least Canon no longer had a destructive weapon. Soon they headed into the loops of the Vortex for the second time. Canon's bike, suddenly firing on ignited auxiliary boosters, tore ahead of Cloud, but not up the loop. Cloud soon realized why. Canon sat in front of Cloud's bike on the curve, trapping him in. Crusher's heavy flared out cruiser rumbled behind him and sat in Cloud's blind spot. Up against the left side of the track, Cloud's sword arm became ineffective against him.

Crusher swung his club, smashing the brushed gold auxiliary muffler and cracking the back casing and tail light. _Sonofabitch!_ The fiend was trying to destroy the bike he was trying to win. Cloud's eyes flashed with violent fury.

Canon wheeled ahead, leaving Crusher. A stupid thing to do in Cloud's opinion. Cloud glided the bulky bike, cutting across Crusher's path, and rode close to the inside turn. Flicking his sword to his other hand, he stretched it behind, the whole length hovering in reach of Crusher's bike. Only needing the tip, he brought it down with fluid strength, every bit of power he had, he used. The red and gold front fender and the wheel brace exploded in a mess of metal and debris, and the torn wheel bounced high and away. Crusher careened forward, crashing into the concrete curve and what was left of the bike, smashed into the concrete barrier in a mini fireball. "See how you like it." Cloud, not sparing the incapacitated man a glance, let his machine fall back to the outside curve of the loop once more.

Into the straight at the top of the Spiral, he gunned it for the Drop-Off and for Canon, yards ahead of him. This time he was better prepared for the great leap through the air. Surely bikes could not keep landing and keep remaining in one piece. Machine rattling and clanging from the beating it just took, there was only a revving hum as he sailed through the air and down, his tires drooping in expectation. This time he distributed his weight in a more even keel and lowered the front wheels to better ease into the landing, if that was at all possible. An easy landing meant colliding with the surface with as little jarring as possible and the suspension in-between not being destroyed.

There was no time to check engine damage in this race as he zoomed off down the Spiral. Engines screamed down the loop as he chased after the other riders with Canon currently in front of him. He scored a trail into the folds of dirt on the narrow track. Finding used grooves in the rolls of sand, he managed to weave between the Wutai and than Canon before the two began physically clashing together from their bikes. Cloud spared them a brief glance before coming neck to neck with Shadow, leading the pack. Abruptly, a sword was forced across his neck and shoulders, baring his way. The sharp edge firmly pressed into his skin, drawing blood. The unmoving angle of the blade as the bike sped pell-mell, exhibited the steady hand of the wielder.

Cloud scowled at Shadow, fire burning in his eyes and intensifying to a brighter blue. Shadow was stalling, knowing Cloud's bike could take the dirt track while the racer bikes were not as swift on the sand. Resting his giant blade across his fuselage, Cloud let the edge hover over the Velocitor's handle bars, pointed towards the rider. The two were so close Cloud could see his reflection in the glinting visor. It was a standoff that was buying Shadow time to steal away when he reached the firmer road. Cloud just needed to get him away. Pressing a button, the hidden side compartments flung open. Shadow skidded to the barrier, attempting to recoup control of his swerving vehicle. Riding between them, the monstrous Wutai bike rumbled with screeching speed and hurtled by onto the road, heading for Hell's Descent. Cloud chased him down towards the pitch black tunnel. Despite the darkness, the Wutai didn't slow and neither did Cloud as he pummeled full throttle to catch him. The finish line was within grasping distance. He wanted the bike more now than when he first laid eyes on it.

The cracking hum of the Velocitor was in his blind spot as Shadow also tried for the lead. The Wutai sped out from the dark and neared the ramp. Cloud and Shadow, vying for second, hindered his back end, but there was only one position Cloud wanted.

From the bottom of the ramp was the familiar roar of Canon's bike still in the game. Above the cracking of engines, he hollered, "You Fuckers aren't gonna win it!"

Cloud glanced back at his grim sounding threat. Canon had removed what Cloud had thought to be a supped up engine part and was aiming it up the ramp. Was that a rocket launcher? In flight there wasn't anything Cloud could do, except take the shot and hope he was faster. The missile whizzed past and must have hit Wutai's rear. The air lit up with a thunderous explosion, transforming the space above the ramp to a glowing fiery ball of heat, billowing into wafts of flames and acrid smoke. On the other side, Wutai's bike flew high before slamming into the concrete in a molten wreck, his body somersaulted on the concrete further than his bike. Shadow holding on to the bars of his bike was propelled through the air. Losing all control, the bike crashed hard into the road and he skidded along with it, his leg trapped underneath.

At the same time, Cloud, head down, his bike whining through the flames, flew over the Velocitor and landed in a sliding squeal, his leg ripping along the road. He used all his supernatural strength to keep the bike from careening and smashing into the barrier.

Canon sailed through the dissipating smoke, smirking like a fiend. Cloud, his skin still steaming from the fire, attempted righting the leaning overpowered bike. He felt like he had no skin left on his leg, and his muscles contorted from the force he needed to get the bike balanced. In the corner of his mind, he sensed the crowds in the stands going nuts, probably at the unfolding drama at the track's finish line. Canon approached, his victory almost assured. Shadow, still clutching his sword, had crawled from his bike and shoved the blade into Canon's thigh as he raced by. The man howled in pain. "You crazy shit!" Blade embedded in his leg, his bike veered across the roadway, hitting the wall.

Cloud coasted over the finish line, his bike coming to a clattering uneasy stop, his leg screaming for relief. A giant shot of him on the big screen, looking dazed and grubby, made the crowds shriek with delight. After a few confused moments, Cloud punched the air with his fist, letting loose his own adrenaline fueled shout. He had won, but it never would have happened if...

A medical team arrived to assist Shadow who had collapsed back on the ground, his black suit torn and burnt. Another two medical staff worked over Wutai. While Canon was hauled off his bike and held by a man on either side of him. Cloud kicked his stand down and watched through the Officials, a swaggering, hairy half-naked wannabe wrestler come towards him. Dio. The last person Cloud wanted to see. Was he coming to hug him?

Dio approached with open arms. "I knew it. It's my boy. He's _my_ champion!"

The shock of what just happened started to lessen, and feeling an uncontainable rush of rage, Cloud, sword in his left hand shoved Dio out of the way and limped with determination over to Canon. Without a word, he punched him in the face, sending his head twisting to the side. Canon growled obscenities back, but went limp in the hands of the men assisting him. The big screen relayed every detail and the crowds couldn't get enough of the heated moment. Too angry to speak, Cloud walked away, thinking he might kill him if given more time, or opportunity.

 

~~7~~

 

"How _much_?" Cloud didn't think he heard right.

Axel bounced up and down, clapping his hands together. "100,000 gil!"

Cloud whistled at the amount. In effect that was how much the bike cost, but that was the deal. He was back in Axel's workshop, cleaning himself up and hoping Axel could do something to fix the bike to at least get him home. His wounds were also cleaned up and he even had a new pair of pants, but given that he was the Champion he could have had anything he wanted. He had to decline the celebratory party though, much to Dio's disappointment. That man gave him the creeps, and he didn't want to spend more time with him than was necessary. "You should have told me about the speed problem." He lifted an accusing brow at the happy man. "No foot brake."

The smile couldn't be wiped from the mechanic's face despite Cloud's scowl. "We had a deal. Would it have mattered anyway?"

Cloud stared, incredulously. "It wasn't worth nearly so much." And now the bike was beat up. Dents and scorch marks, not to mention what had happened to him. Thankfully, he had no remaining burn marks due to his regenerative cells. But still... he would have to tell Tifa. Maybe not straight away. Let her see the bike first, see what she thinks.

Axel lowered himself to look at the bike's chassis. "Wasn't it?"

It was faulty… and the price too high, but - that's not what the man was talking about.

"It saved you, didn't it?"

Cloud creased his brow in thought. The speed certainly carried him through, especially after nearly being blasted out of the race.

"You didn't buy this bike." Axel went back to clanging away at the dented metal, his voice muffled. "You earned this bike. That's a whole lot better, don't you think? I can fix all these burns and dents. Ah, that'll be a breeze. It'll look brand new."

Cloud remained silent. He was right in a round about greedy way. He smiled at the idea that he had tamed the Hell Hound. "I don't like that name much." Sitting on an upturned crate, he relaxed against the wall.

"Yeah, well, maybe it doesn't like it either. Anywho, you can choose your own name. He's yours now to do with as you wish."

 

~~7~~

 

The sunlight was diminishing from the garage's opening as the end of the day approached. After talking with Denzel for some time, Cloud wheeled himself back under Fenrir to finish off.

Denzel still sat, wide-eyed, excited and pumped to go racing even more now. His story wasn't a deterrent in the least. "Do you think you still would have won if you weren't blown up?"

"Hmm. Not sure." He had wondered about that himself. "Possibly."

"But still, Fenrir carried you through." Denzel stared at the bike, his face soft with admiration.

"Yeah, nothing was going to stop it. But because I had the strength to control the bike's propulsion I could right it and continue. A normal man would not have been so...lucky."

"Like Shadow?"

Cloud paused from his work. "I don't think Shadow was a normal man. But his actions turned the events at the end, that's for sure."

"You have some awesome things happen to you." He pouted. "Did you tell Tifa?"

Cloud opened his mouth to respond.

"Tell me what?" Tifa stood in the doorway, her dark hair shading her burgundy eyes that were sparkling despite her stern question. She stared down at Cloud expectantly.

Cloud peeked at her from under the carriage, his brows lifting. "About Fenrir. The race."

She folded her arms and tilted her head, a smile curving the corner of her mouth. "Ah, yes, that's right." After a pause, she made a powerful fist in front of her and she seemed just as pumped as Denzel. "Next time you go, I'm coming and I'll ride pillion."

He stopped, mid-tightening of the clamp and frowned at her. They had already had this discussion. It was far too dangerous. "That's not going to happen." Although he had to admit, having Tifa at his back could be helpful, it could be... the ride of his life. He resisted those thoughts before they took a serious shape.

"Admit it, Cloud." Tifa smiled and punched her fist forward, showing him exactly what she would be capable of. "It'll be fun."

If it wasn't so dangerous, it might be fun... but -

Denzel interrupted. "Why don't we go see these races?"

And that's why he avoided taking them to the Gold Saucer, in particular the races because Tifa had a terrible skill of persuasion. It was best to avoid it altogether.

"Yes, tell him why, Cloud." She teased with a playful grin.

Because if he went anywhere near the race, he would probably want to participate. He returned her smile. She didn't need to ask, she knew, all too well. "Maybe one day."

"Yes!" Denzel cried. "Maybe soon."

Tifa leaned on the door jam and crossed her arms once more. "Maybe..." -- and she blew Cloud an air kiss in satisfaction.

Cloud shook his head at her, "We can talk about that later." Although, he would conveniently forget about it and hope she did the same. He continued looking up at her, hoping to sound convincing. "If you saw the race you may rethink wanting to be in it."

"True, you can be pretty persuasive." She tapped her finger on her lips and looked away thoughtfully. " _Or_ I might want to be in it even more."

Cloud grunted, avoiding her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere till I fix this." Abandoning the tools, he used the good old fashioned way. His fingers.

"Hurry up than. I want you both to wash up and come in for dinner." Her work in the garage complete, she turned and left.

"So that's the guy who comes in once in awhile." Denzel watched him thoughtfully. "Axel."

"Yep. That's him." Cloud stopped twisting and cocked his head to look at Denzel. "Never do a deal with that guy. It's not as if he needs any gil."

Denzel ducked his head. "Oh. Okay."

"He's asked you something, hasn't he?" Cloud shook his head.

"Ah, not really." The young man shrugged. "He just said if I wanted to learn motor mechanics he could teach me. If I work for him."

"Okay, just ask me first." Cloud went back to the irritating piece of machine.

Denzel nodded. He suddenly said, as if changing the subject, "Hey, one of your swords is called Shadow."

Cloud gave a relaxed sigh. The piece glided on and stuck. "That's right."

Denzel was quiet as Cloud pushed himself out from the bike. Denzel eventually spoke. "How did you get those swords anyway and why did you name your bike Fenrir?"

Wiping his hands on an already dirty towel, Cloud smiled. "Ah, that's another story."

 

 

 

~~7~~

 

 

 

[the note from Sal]

 

_Axel, my friend. Do me a favor. Set this kid up with some good wheels. He doesn't say much, but I get the feeling he's been through a rough time and needs a break. Give him a good deal._

_Not that damn machine, the Hell Hound!_

_Good luck in the Champ race. Sal_

 


End file.
